


It will be alright

by Marvel_Patronus1



Category: Amazing Spider-Man (2012), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Angst, Bruce Feels, Car Accidents, Family, Gen, M/M, Natasha isn't that scary, Rehabilitation, Steve won't sleep, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvel_Patronus1/pseuds/Marvel_Patronus1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had been loud music. There was always loud music in these situations. Music blasting from the radio as harry sang a bad rendition of ‘call me maybe’. Peter hadn’t seen the car, he would have stopped though, even if he did have right of way. How could he not? His pop had been the one to teach him how to drive. But he didn’t see the car. He heard it, felt it, experienced it as metal wrapped around metal and the screeching drone of the radio stuttered, skipped and then stopped all together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It will be alright

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Stony fic that I wrote a while ago. It was originally posted here on my tumblr:  
> http://headphoneselephantspencilss.tumblr.com/post/30228919727/it-will-be-alright-story-1
> 
> from a prompt.  
> \- Prompt: Peter and harry got into a nasty car accident and he ends up having to use a wheelchair (like Quinn from glee) so the superfamily deals with the difficult months where no one knows if he’s walk again or not. Also, Tony, trying to be helpful, designs a walking skeleton robot thing but he end up making peter think that he wants a son that’s only perfect and that he doesn’t want him any more.
> 
> hope you enjoy :)

There had been loud music. There was always loud music in these situations. Music blasting from the radio as harry sang a bad rendition of ‘call me maybe’. Peter hadn’t seen the car, he would have stopped though, even if he did have right of way. How could he not? His pop had been the one to teach him how to drive. But he didn’t see the car. He heard it, felt it, experienced it as metal wrapped around metal and the screeching drone of the radio stuttered, skipped and then stopped all together.

.......

Virginia Potts was always prepared for every situation. Which is why as soon as Tony had ran through the hospital doors she had pulled out a small orange bottle of pills and immediately emptied four into her hand. Tony hated hospitals, he always had and she was sure that he always would. This was just going to amplify his hate. Tony had ran straight past the large group of them, standing in the middle of the waiting room while other people stared and tried to accept the fact that they were actually seeing a group of super heroes in the hospital.  
“Tony!” Pepper had called as he kept running, skidding to a halt, knocking into a painting and turning around, eyes falling on everyone standing there.  
“Pepper? Pepper? Where…Peter…Steve…Pepper…I…Um…Hospital…Peter…You said…”  
“I know, breathe, just breathe Tony.” she told him calmly, placing the pills in her hand into his which he swallowed immediately, taking deep ragged breaths.  
“Peter, where’s Peter? I need to see him…has someone…please Pepper.” he choked out, his head a blurry haze as he tried to collect his thoughts. Once again, his eyes landed on the large group of people gathering around him. Natasha standing next to Clint who was clasping her hand tightly while her other one rubbed soothing circles on Bruce’s shoulder as he shook and the beeping on his heart rate monitor seemed to be quicker than usual. Thor and Jane stood just behind them, the Norse God frowning in concentration as Jane spoke to him in a hushed tone.  
“Darcy and Happy have gone to get everyone Coffee, they just took Peter into the operating room, we’re in for a long wait before we can see him.” Natasha said, her usual stoic mask in place, despite the slight hysteria to her words.  
“He’s in surgery? Who signed the release papers? Was it Steve? Wait…Steve…Where is he? Where’s Steve?” The desperate tinge to his voice didn’t go unnoticed and Pepper fought a wince at Tony’s pleading eyes.  
“Steve’s somewhere filling in paperwork, he needed space to breathe.” Tony nods. Or maybe he shakes his head, or maybe he just rolls his neck. Either way he feels dizzy as he gives a strangled yes and tries to keep breathing. He can already feel the effects of Pepper’s mystery pills on his mind as he keeps breathing. Just keep breathing he tells himself.  
“What happened? No…don’t tell me. Steve, I need to go find Steve.” and then he just goes, walking down the hall way again, past the painting that he ran into and his shoes clicking against the floor. He needs to breathe, he needs to sleep and he needs a good drink. But first he needs to find Steve because if he can’t see Peter then he needs to see Steve. Steve is important to him and right now he knows Steve needs him because he needs Steve. So he keeps walking down the hallway, through the door to the stairwell, down four flights of stairs, out a door, along a balcony, through another door, down another stairway and then he’s there. Sitting in the corner of one of the platforms between stairs, Steve is clutching a clipboard, his knees pulled up to his chest and his shoulders shaking as he sobs into arms. He hasn’t noticed Tony yet, not until he feels a hand gently raking the hair at the back of his neck. He doesn’t look up to know it’s Tony, he can tell by the sent of aftershave that seems to have taken over the small space he’s crammed his large body into.  
“I cant…I can’t remember if he broke his leg or his arm…I can’t…I can’t remember.” He stutters out. Tony takes the clipboard and sits it next to Steve before squeezing himself between Steve’s knees and burying his head in Steve’s neck.  
“It will be alright.” Tony whispers and it’s a blatant lie. They both know it. Nothing is going to be all right because for all they know Peter could be bleeding out on an operating table right now and they might never see him smile or laugh or make some witty science joke again. And that is most definitely not all right.  
In the end, Pepper and Natasha do the paperwork. Both of them being the only people besides Steve and Tony who know all of Peter’s medical history. As the only two females constantly around it was their job to know absolutely everything about every single person in their muddled up family. Steve and Tony sit in silence amongst the others as the two women answer the questions thoroughly and precisely. Has he broken bones before. Allergies. Past operations. Injuries. Age. Side effects of any past injuries. Blood type. Things that never really seem important but suddenly are.  
“What time is it?” Bruce asks, his voice tired as he sips on crappy hospital coffee. Jane sighs.  
“It’s two am. They should be out with another update shortly.” Right on cue a man in green scrubs walks out, his eyes look tired and his face is lined with stress and worry.  
“Mr Stark, Mr Rogers.” the man greets with a nod for the fourth time that night.  
“How is he?” Steve asks in a strained tone, his eyes wide in desperation. The doctor clears his throat and pinches the bridge of his nose.  
“Peter is out of surgery and in recovery, his vitals are good and the swelling has gone down bu-“  
“Can we see him?” Tony asks, springing up from his seat and picking at the skin on his thumb with his forefinger, a nervous habit he never really dropped.  
“Peter is sedated at the moment during the operation w-“  
“But can we see him?” he says more forcefully, with a sigh the doctor clears his throat and nods.  
“M. Stark, during the operation we noticed some serious swelling on the L2 through to L5 vertebrae.”  
“Swelling you say?” the doctor nods.  
“We can’t be sure until he wakes but it seems the spinal nerves have been damaged and the disk between L3 and L4 slipped.”  
“I don’t understand what this means…” Steve says gently, his eyebrows still furrowed as Tony leans into him slightly. Everyone in the room looks at him sadly, seeming to understand the strange medical talk.  
“It means that Peter might not be able to walk again.” Natasha tells him gently, suddenly behind him, her hands on his shoulder blades. Steve almost cries, he almost does but Tony beats him to it and before he can register his own emotions Tony’s body has collapsed onto Steve’s and there is a strangled sob coming from his throat as Steve pulls him tightly to his chest.  
“We want to see him now.” Steve mutters and the doctor nods pointing to a room down the hall.  
“Number 380. Not all of you can go in there at once.” He starts but Natasha throws him one of her glares and he wisely shuts up, stepping aside so that Steve can help Tony slowly walk towards the room.

……..

The first time that Peter walked Clint was babysitting. He had been bowling on the WII, bored out of his brains as he waited for Natasha to come home with dinner. It turns out that as great as Stark Tower was it wasn’t baby proof so someone had to stay home with the eleven month old Peter who refused to do anything but crawl around on his stomach. Clint was almost certain that if it wasn’t for his random kicks when he was grumpy that he couldn’t actually use his legs. Tony and Steve had been at a SHIELD meeting with Fury, Bruce was in the middle of a break through and Thor was off with Jane. Peter had been lying on his interactive mat that Tony had made for him. He had no idea why the kid was basically drooling over a giant iPad (of course he would never call it an iPad because everyone knew how Tony felt about apple) but he had learnt not to question Tony and his parenting skills. He had just gotten his fourth gutter ball when Peter gave a small gurgle of ‘Papa!’ pointing at the screen he was laying on where Steve was marching around to ‘Star Spangled Man with a plan.’ Clint was almost certain that Steve was going to kill Tony for that.  
“That’s right Petey, that’s your papa.” Clint had said with a sigh before turning back to the TV. He had missed the concentration on Peter’s face as he watched Steve march around. He hadn’t seen the way Peter’s small feet had started tapping in rhythm with his fathers. What he did see, however, was Peter as he slowly pushed up onto his knees.  
“JARVIS record this!” Clint had whispered in excitement, not wanting to distract Peter as he tried to rise to his feet with determination on his face. Clint had watched excitedly as very slowly the young boy had stood on his small feet, wobbling like crazy but wearing a large wide smile as he did so.  
“Look at you big guy! You’re standing all on your own! Look at that…your dad’s are going to be so proud of you and Uncle Thor is going to go ballistic and Tasha and Pepper, well Tasha will pretend she doesn’t care but you know she’ll smother you in love and affection as usual.”  
“Cwint!” Peter had squealed in excitement, waving his fists with a toothy grin and then taken one small shuffled step towards Clint, then another, then another and then one more just to be safe. Clint stood gobsmacked, his mouth had dropped, his eyes widened and he let out a loud yell. Peter giggled and this time fully lifted his foot from the floor.  
“Holy shit! Shit fuck fuck shit shit! Oh my God! Shit Just…wait…just stop big guy. Oh God your dads are going to flip that they missed this. Shit shit shit!” he had chorused over and over as Peter giggled and continued to walk behind him.  
“Clint I’m home!” Natasha had yelled form the door, her voice echoing through the house.  
“Shit Natasha! Peter is walking! He’s walking on his feet! Get in here Tash!”  
“Tat Tat Tat!” Peter said sloppily, his feet moving him around in all directions before he took a rocking step, turning himself around and facing Natasha who was standing in the doorway, smiling at Peter widely and looking like she was…  
“Are you crying?” Clint asked amused, Natasha shot him a deathly glare and quickly wiped her eyes.  
“No…I’m just not blinking, I would hate to miss any of this.” she replied, eyes drifting back to Peter who was giggling and drooling and walking towards her faster and faster. She crouched down to her knees and held out her arms, Peter took three more steps and then fell forward into her warm embrace as she picked him up with a wide smile and spun him around.  
“Look at you gorgeous!” she laughed, slapping a kiss on his cheek.  
“ttttttssssit!” Peter gurgled and Natasha froze. Peter might not be able to say his ‘Sh’ but she definitely knew what that word was. Coincidently, it turned out, the day that Peter took his first steps he also learnt his first swear word.

………  
Peter didn’t look 17 as he lay in the hospital bed, wires poking out from all over, needles dug into his skin, monitors beeping, bandages covering his arms and the plastic hospital sheet covering his body. Steve gently stroked Peter’s forehead as he moved towards the bed, his hands brushing over the brown locks and gently caressing the only skin that didn’t seem damage. His other arm was wrapped tightly around Tony who was looking at Peter with glassy eyes.  
“He’ll be alright.” Clint whispers, it echoes around the room and no one really replies because they’re not sure how. Instead they stay there taking turns at stroking Peter’s head, talking to him gently, tucking the covers tighter. Tony, Bruce and Jane inspect the different gadgets his plugged into, making sure that they’re working properly. Pepper starts knitting a blanket, claiming that ‘he can’t be comfortable with that plastic crap’ but Happy and Tony both know she’s knitting to clear her mind, to try and relax and because Peter was the only one who had taken the time to sit down week after week and learned to knit with her. Steve lies on one side of the bed, with an arm that doesn’t have hundreds of needles stuck into it, and gently strokes Peter’s hair as he rests. Tony is certain that the bed is going to break but it doesn’t, and no one has the heart to comment on how Steve is pressed against the bed bars, and his feet are way of the end and that he just can’t possibly be comfortable. Natasha just sits in a chair on the other side of Peter, singing the words to a Russian lullaby that seems to soothe everyone.  
It’s well into the afternoon when Peter wakes up. No one - not even Thor- had slept. Blinking and squinting and letting out a loud groan Steve had rolled off of the bed in shock and then scrambled to stand up, watching as Peter awoke to the world around him.  
“Pete?” Tony whispered, suddenly at Steve’s side, holding his hand tightly.  
“D-Dad?” he choked out, his voice raspy and dry.  
“Oh thank god.” Tony gasped, tears filling his eyes that he desperately held back before hugging Peter as tightly as he could without hurting him.  
“You’re ok.” Steve whispered, placing a kiss to his forehead and leaning against Tony’s side. Peter blinked a few more times, wriggled his fingers and looked around the room at everyone there.  
“You all look exhausted.”  
“You scared away my Asgardian pants young Peter!” Thor declared before marching foreword and hugging him tightly. It wasn’t until everyone had hugged him, Pepper had cried with no abandon and even Natasha had let out a few silent tears that Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in fear as he looked at his dads.  
“What is it?” Steve asked gently, his palm cupping Peter’s cheek. Peter leaned into his dad’s hand, even though he had often said he was to old for such affection. Peter let out a jagged breath and looked into Steve’s eyes.  
“Why…my…pop…why can’t I feel my legs?” he breathed. Tony choked, Steve shut his eyes and Clint’s broken sob was all Peter heard before he too started to cry.

…….  
Tony had been hard at work with Jane and Bruce by his side. In a matter of hours Stark tower had been turned into the most wheelchair friendly building in the world. Peter would be coming home within the hour, being discharged three weeks after Harry who had dutifully sat at his best friend’s bedside as soon as he could. Harry, despite fractured arm and shattered cheekbone was fine. And everyone could tell that it killed him. Apologies where hard to ignore when Harry was in the room,  
‘I’m sorry the music was so loud’  
’I’m sorry I made you go to that party’  
‘I’m sorry that I distracted you’  
‘I’m sorry…I’m just…I’m so sorry.’  
These apologies meant little to Peter, he had never been one to hold a grudge and it wasn’t surprising when Peter had apologised for ruining Harry’s chance of football that year. Harry had been with Peter every step so far. His first day at rehabilitation, pushing him, telling him not to give up. Peter had though. He had cried and let go of the handlebars, dropping his weight onto the cold mat and sobbed as Steve held him, rocking him backwards and forwards. Steve had always been that parent. The one that knew what to do, that would heal a cut knee, sprained ankle, find a lost toy and fix the tears. So Tony stayed away, he worked at home, fixed the house, visited Peter when he could, brought changes of clothes, better food, TV, Peter’s gadgets and left during any appointment. Not bearing to see his son in that anguish, not being able to live with himself because Tony Stark was Tony Stark, and like the fool he was he blamed himself.  
“Tony!” Steve called, stepping into the house, Pepper pushing Peter through the door with a very small knitted blanket on his lap. He didn’t care if it was only big enough to cover a baby because Pepper had made it for him, and he loved it.  
“He’s lost it.” Peter declares as they look around the house, and they all know it’s true. Everything, literally everything has been redone. All of it wheel chair compatible, all of it making Peter’s job a little easier, a little less noticeable. The counters had been moved down, the floors all smooth, the carpets ripped up, bars in random parts of the hallway and that was just what they could see from the door.  
“Tony?!?” Steve called a little louder, his voice somewhat sterner.  
“Coming, coming…your home!” he said happily, stepping into the hallway. Peter didn’t smile like he usually did when his dad showed up, covered in oil and smelling of sweat.  
“Yeah.” he replies casually before forcing through a yawn.  
“Can I go to my room Pep?” Pepper smiles and ruffles his hair.  
“Of course sweetheart.” she says before pushing him past Tony and out of sight. Tony sighs, Steve sighs and the two look at each other with broken expressions.  
“I see you did up the house.”  
“Bruce and Jane helped.” he admitted smugly.  
“Harry’s coming over tomorrow.”  
“Of course.”  
“Tash and Clint weren’t sure if they should come home.”  
“Why wouldn’t they?”  
“Because of…well…”  
“This is everyone’s home.” Tony says firmly and Steve walks over, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning his chin on his forehead.  
“I love you.” Steve whispers against Tony’s hair, Tony gives a small smile into his neck.  
“I love you too. I was thinking McDonald’s for dinner…Pete’s addicted to the crap.”  
“He’d like that.” Steve agrees and then they just stand there, because neither of them are really sure what to do next.

…….

The next few weeks passed by in a painful blur. Steve spent all his spare time in the gym; breaking weight after weight, bag after bag, turning the gym into a pile of scrap metal and sand. His hands were constantly swollen and bloody but he never complained, never mentioned it and didn’t try to do anything about it. He would sit with Peter in his room until he fell asleep, do his exercises with him, help him through the painful appointments and rehabilitation sessions. He did his research, changed their diets, gave Peter the independence he needed but always hid just out of sight- ready to come as soon as Peter called for him. Tony tried, and failed. Like everything he ruined it. He Talked to Peter, watched movies with him, they worked together in Tony’s workshop, joked around and yet Tony couldn’t do it. He couldn’t help Peter do his stretches; sit through the anguish as he failed to walk and he couldn’t help Peter. He couldn’t lift him off the floor; help him get dressed…just help. It caused his breaths to become laboured, his throat to close and his arc reactor to sting painfully in his chest. At nights he would lay awake in bed, listening as Steve beat the crap out of everything in the gym, worked himself to breaking point. He would listen to the sobs that followed, that shook him to the core but he wouldn’t move. Natasha’s lullaby would echo through the house as she sung to Peter who would be stirred by his pops sobs. Clint would go to the kitchen and continuously throw darts and Thor could be heard sneaking to check on Peter and Natasha. Occasionally Pepper would show up and sleep in Peter’s room, or on Steve’s side of the bed, just holding Tony’s hand as he tried to understand exactly what was happening. Everyone was on autopilot, just going through the motions of living.  
Peter awoke to the sound of hushed arguing outside his door. He could tell by the tone that it was his dads. Ever since he had come home they didn’t seem to be getting along as well as they did.  
“You need to sleep Steve!”  
“I’m fine Tony, I’ve been sleeping.”  
“Stop lying to yourself. I hear you at the gym, in Peter’s room, in the kitchen, getting into bed early in the morning and then just lying there not really sleeping. Just go to bed, Peter will be fine.”  
“I don’t need sleep Tony- serum remember? I need to see my son, now if you’ll just” There was a grunt, a bit of banging, a hiss and then a loud groan. Peter sighed, and tried to cover his ears with his pillow like he had when he was a child. But he couldn’t ignore it, the cry of anguish outside his door, the yelling, the arguing, the pain of his fathers words.  
“Steve please…I need you to sleep, just sleep.”  
“No! Tony let me go, stop this just stop! Go back to your fortress of solitude and leave me to look after our son.” Peter was sure that his pop hadn’t meant the words to come out so harshly, but they did and he could almost see his dad’s fallen expression, the hurt in his eyes before footsteps echoed down the hall and he could here his pop cry outside his door. He didn’t come in for a few more hours. 

……..

Bruce had decided that a day out would be good for Peter, so a day out it was. The two had gone to central park, fed the ducks, Peter had tried to walk but only managed to stand for two seconds before Bruce caught him and said they’d try again next week. They were sitting at a bench when the conversation came up. Well Bruce was on the Bench, Peter next to him. Peter liked being around Bruce a lot of the time. He was silent; he didn’t stare at him like he was weird, or with sympathy or concern. He acted normal. Peter was certain that Bruce spent half the time not even realising he was in a wheel chair.  
“My parents keep fighting.”  
“Everyone fights Pete.”  
“Not dad and pop. Not like this.”  
“It’s hard, for all of us it’s hard. What’s the point of having super powers if we can’t use them to save the ones we love?”  
“I don’t need saving.” Peter mutters darkly and Bruce gives a small smile.  
“Maybe you don’t, but they do.” Peter looks at Bruce who is staring over the lake, not even moving his eyes to look at him.  
“Do you think everything will be ok?” Bruce laughs.  
“You know, when I first…after the accident I felt like you do now. Like I had ruined everything, like life had been destroyed.”  
“Do you still feel like that?”  
“Like I’m not worth everything?”  
”Yeah.”  
“Everyday”  
“How do you get through it?”  
“Honestly?” Peter doesn’t even grace this with a response, instead he rolls his eyes and Bruce gives him a small smile, placing a hand on his shoulder.  
“Because of you.”  
“Me?”  
“I figured if something so young and innocent and perfect could love me and adore me, even if I scared him then I could live through the day. Survive.” Peter smiles.  
“I can survive this.” He says sternly and Bruce looks back over the lake, his hand squeezing Peter’s shoulder before placing it back in his lap.  
“I never doubted you.”

……

Music is blasting through the house when Bruce and Peter get back, the heavy metal causing the walls to vibrate as each guitar cord shakes the frame, sends a shrill tingle up everyone’s spine.  
“Peter you have returned! Father Stark is building legs.” Thor declares and Peter rolls his eyes because sometimes his uncle Thor can just not know what he’s talking about.  
“Legs?” He asks like he’s interested even though he’s not.  
“Indeed. I once told him of how whilst battling a frost giant my good friend fell through the cracks of ice. His spine was implanted with frost giant ice and he could not walk. So we built him legs as he was a fine warrior and such injury would prevent him form walking in the footsteps of our ancestors.” Thor says it proudly. Natasha, Jane and Pepper just glare at him, Clint clears his throat awkwardly and Bruce shakes his head.  
“You built him legs…because he wasn’t good enough.”  
“Indeed, power is important in the house of Odin as is mobility. He was a fine warrior once fixed.”  
“I see…excuse me.” Peter breathes before wheeling himself to his room, fighting tears the entire time and ignoring the loud music coming from his dad’s workshop. Peter wheels past his room, down the hall, past the bathroom, past the computer lab and finally to a large metal door of the gym. Inside he can hear his pop working hard, breaking things, grunting, and the split of each punching bag as he goes. Knocking Peter here’s his pop give a short sigh, mutter a few curse words of the 40’s and then opens the door.  
“Tony I really don’t want to- oh, Pete. How was the park?” and then Peter cries. He lets out a strangled sob because his pop wasn’t looking at him gently or softly or happily when he opened the door. It was a stern glare, a dark look of pure anger saved only for the worst people, not the man he loves. Peter cries because he can see how much his pop loves him, hear it in his voice and all he wants is to cry and be held. So when Steve drops to his knees and whispers.  
“Pete?” Peter replies with a gentle ‘papa’ and Steve pulls him form the stupid chair and into his lap. Cradling him in his arms and rocking him back and forth, slowly, gently, carefully.  
“Shhhhhh Petey, papa’s here.” Steve whispers over and over in the same tone reserved for Peter’s worse nightmares. Peter buries himself into Steve’s chest, smells him, feels him, and remembers what it’s like to be a small boy afraid of the dark. Steve doesn’t let Peter go, even when he stops crying which Peter is grateful for, because he needs this. They fall asleep in the gym, Steve resting against the doorframe, holding Peter, soothing him with gentle whispers, stroking his forehead, rocking him back and forth like a child with a stomach ache. Both ignore the music blasting from the stereo and what it means, instead they pretend it’s the past, that Tony is fixing the iron man suit and both are waiting for him to come and jump on top of them, covered in grease and oil. 

……

Tony doesn’t hear Natasha enter the room, but that’s not surprising because it’s Natasha. When he does notice he jumps out of the air and burns himself with his blow torch.  
“What exactly are you doing?” she asks, arms crossed, not even apologising. Tony gives a sigh and lifts his goggles.  
“Building I’m…I’m helping Peter, I need to do something so I’m going to fix him.”  
“He’s not broken Tony.”  
“Physically he is.” Natasha sighs.  
“You need to go see your son and husband. Right now.”  
“They don’t want to see me.”  
“You would know that how?” Steve shrugs, gives a sigh, opens him mouth a few times to speak, shrugs again and then groans, sitting back in his chair and frowning.  
“I need to finish this.”  
“Tony” “Tony” ”Tony Stop!” Natasha says sternly and he does, again he does. He stops breathing, thinking, the music, his work, he just stops.  
“I need to help him…I need to help make this better so I’m going to fix him. I’m going to build him legs and fix him and help him because I’m just messing everything up, I’m messing everything up so badly and I know that but I don’t know what else to do…I just…I want…I want to fix him. So I will.” Tony is near hysteria at this point and Natasha does something no one ever thought she would do. She hugs him. Natasha Romanov has only ever hugged three people: her mum, Clint and Peter so this is kind of a big deal. She wraps her arms around Tony, rests her chin on his shoulder and when he buries his head into her neck she supports his weight.  
“Peter needs you, I know he does.”  
“He doesn’t need a stuff up, that’s what I’m doing stuffing everything up. He has Steve.”  
“Steve needs you too Tony, they both need you…they both need their family. You all need your family right now.” Natasha feels hot tears on her neck and she sighs gently, murmuring words to a Russian lullaby she knows.  
“I love him, I love him so much.”  
“Who?”  
“Both.”  
……  
Peter wakes up in a bed, his parent’s bed. For a moment he thinks that his pops moved him but then he opens his eyes and sees his dad laying on his right, his pop on his left and himself in the middle. He wonders how his dad managed to get both of them to bed without waking anyone. That’s a silly thought though because his dad is Iron man and probably has some sort of levitating device to do that for him. Peter almost smiles at the situation they’re in and then remembers why he’s in the situation in the first place. He all but frowns at his dad who is sleeping soundly, a hand over Steve’s that is resting above Peter’s head. When Peter tries to move and Tony’s eyes shoot open they both stare at one another awkwardly, silence falling over them.  
“Morning.” Tony breathes, and Peter gives a small nod.  
“It is.” he replies shortly and Tony knows that he learnt this from him because everything good in Peter is from Steve, this tone, this attitude, this anger is all from him.  
“Peter…I want to tell you…about what I was doing in the lab…it’s not…”  
“You don’t have to explain…I understand you know. I’m the son of Iron Man and Captain America, the Avengers baby it must be hard to have something so important broken and not fix it. I just…I wish…don’t you love me?” Peter asks broken, ignoring the anger and instead sinking into despair, Tony gives a choked sigh and cups Peter’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear.  
“Don’t…Pete…of course I love you. I love you so much even if you’re in a wheel chair, or can’t speak or see or have amnesia I am always going to love you because you’re my son, and that won’t change.”  
“So you’re not…I mean…you’re not ashamed of me?” Tony shakes his head and looks into Peter’s hopeful eyes.  
“I am so insanely proud of you Peter. You are a strong brave man and I will never be disappointed in you. You could never disappoint me because you are so much like your pop, you are so good and you have so much strength and I have so much belief in you. Don’t ever doubt that Peter.” Peter gives a small timid smile and curls into Tony’s chest, strong arms wrap around him and his head is slightly pressed against the arc reactor. Tony holds Peter tightly, feeling his son in his arms and giving a wide grin as tears fall down his face. When Steve’s wakes up a few hours later they’re still lying like that. Gently pecking Tony’s lips he wraps his long firm arms around both of them. As the day moves on and no one gets up people start to join. First Thor who jumps right on top of Tony and crushes him, Natasha who stays at the end of the bed, Clint who curls up in her lap and even Bruce who smiles at the sight and shakes his head fondly. They lie there for ages, until Pepper comes and declares that they all need to eat something. All of them there for Peter, wrapped around each other, smiling, happy and, in their own weird way, making a family. 

……..

Thor, as it turned out, was terrible with children. Of course this didn’t really surprise anyone. His loud booming voice, giant hammer and strange Asgardian ways weren’t exactly child friendly. When Peter was a baby he was terrified of Thor, no one really knew why but Jane guessed it was because he spoke far to loudly and the young boy already had enough noise to deal with. When Peter was eight Thor found him crying in the cupboard. At first he had overlooked him, in desperate need for the pop tarts that Tony had hidden away. However when his eyes fell on the small boy Thor frowned and crouched down.  
“Young Peter! There is leakage in your eyes!” Thor had declared concerned, his thumb swiping a tear and staring at it with a frown.  
“It’s a…a…tear uncle Thor…I’m…I’m Crying.” Peter had hiccupped, not looking up from his knees as he did so.  
“And what evil has brought you pain! In the name of Asgard I Thor from the house of Odin shall not rest until you are Avenged!” Peter had stumbled over a laugh then and reached his small arms up, begging to be lifted. Thor, feeling a flutter in his heart, obliged, picking up the young boy who nuzzled his neck.  
“No one picked me to…to be on their team in s-sport because I’m t-t-t-oo small!” Peter wailed, more tears falling from his eyes. Thor sighed, frowned and then held Peter a little tighter.  
“In Asgard being small is not a bad thing. For even my brother Loki is small but one of the most powerful.”  
“Loki?” Peter questioned and Thor nodded.  
“My brother who is part Frost Giant. He is small for his kind but filled with power. You will meet him I predict.”  
“B-but Michael Connors says you can’t be small and play football.”  
“What is this football you speak of?” Thor asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he imagined a foot being thrown around. He would never really understand humans.  
“It’s this oval ball and you play on a field and tackle people.”  
“Like Frost Giant war!” Thor said happily and Peter shook his own head against Thor’s neck.  
“I don’t think so.” Both boys stood in the kitchen frowning, trying to work out exactly how to explain football and how to understand it.  
“Uncle Thor…do you think I’ll be small forever.” Thor laughed, it boomed throughout the house.  
“No you shall grow Peter. Much like your father the captain did. You shall grow tall and strong and powerful and play football far better than all the other boys.”  
“You really think so?” Peter had asked, leaning away from Thor’s neck.  
“Do you question the knowledge of Thor son of Odin?” Peter shook his head incredibly fast and then smiled.  
“I know where dad hid the pop tarts.” Peter whispered, eyes wide and darting around to make sure Tony wasn’t around.  
“You must share your knowledge of where the beloved food is!” Peter had laughed and pointed to a tin labelled ‘Tea’. The two had eaten pop tarts until Tony emerged from his lab, frowning, angry but smiling any way. 

…….

The date August 17th had never meant much to Peter. Until the year 2022 that is. It was a normal August morning, somewhat warm but Peter still felt the need to use the blanket Pepper had made for him. He wheeled himself into the kitchen slowly, it was early in the morning and he was sure no one else was up, the snores coming from Clint and Natasha’s room somewhat confirmed this. Peter was almost at the kitchen when he heard the scurrying and sounds of pots and pans crashing. He almost screamed for his dad before he heard the familiar groan of Thor and a few Asgardian swear words such as ‘Curse the frost giant toe’ ‘Frost giant sandwich’ and ’nose of a green frost giant’ just to name a few. Smiling fondly he wheeled himself into the kitchen where Thor had his head stuck in the cupboard under the sink.  
“What are you doing?” He had asked, knowing full well why Thor would be searching the kitchen in the early hours of the morning.  
“Peter! Son of Tony and Steve. I am treasure hunting for the pop tarts. It seems that Tony has once again hid them from me in fear of me eating them all.” Peter laughed and wheeled over to the island in the middle of the kitchen.  
“He moved the spot you know, they aren’t under the sink anymore. He put them in the casserole dish. He knows how much you hate casseroles.” Thor frowned at this.  
“My pop tarts are casseroles?” he asked, disgusted by the very thought. Peter laughed and threw a box onto the counter of Chocolate Pop Tarts.  
“Nope, not yet.” Thor let out a loud whoop as Peter wheeled over to the fridge to get himself some juice. As Thor watched the toaster, waiting for the chocolate treats to appear the date August 17th turned into more than just a day. He had been reaching for a glass on the top shelf, leaning forward, using one of his arms to support his weight. It all happened very quickly then. One minute the chair was rocking, then it was rolling from under him, Thor turned in time to cry and leap to catch him and Peter closed his eyes. But nothing happened. Thor wasn’t holding him, he hadn’t hit the ground, he was just standing there. Eyes shut tightly, he heard the scrambling of feet down the hall- a result of Thor’s loud call of “PETER!” There was a gasp though, a loud gasp and then Peter opened his eyes. One hand braced on the kitchen counter, the other stretched out in front of him Peter was standing, not leaning, not holding himself up by his arms but firmly standing on two feet. He looked at the floor where Thor was lying, eyes wide, his fathers standing in the hallway, hands clasped as tears swelled in their eyes.  
“I…I’m…” He stuttered, shocked, scared and somewhat proud. Tony smiled widely, tears falling as he walked over to Peter and hugged him tightly.  
“I know, I know.” he said and then Peter grinned widely as he wrapped his own arms around Tony’s waist, legs shaking.  
“Everything is going to be all right.” Steve says, suddenly behind Tony and Peter and Tony both laugh because he’s right, because everything was going to be all right…it always was.


End file.
